


Calling the shots

by lola381pce



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: ...well there's kind of a plot - based around the last sentence of MAoS S4:E10 'The Patriot', BAMF Phil Coulson, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Jeff Mace needs a hug, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Protective Phil Coulson, Resolved Sexual Tension, Spoilers in the end notes for MAoS S04:E18, Unresolved Sexual Tension, becomes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: Mace is lost. He's no longer The Patriot. He's no longer the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., not really. The real Director is the man standing before him. The man who, with one sentence, almost had Mace dropping to his knees for him. Phil Coulson.





	Calling the shots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/gifts), [Inspieos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspieos/gifts).



> “But when it comes to operations, make no mistake. From now on, I’m calling the shots.”
> 
> The porn-plot bunny has been nibbling at my brain since the end of Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. S4:E10 'The Patriot'. The way Coulson said those words to Mace was just so fucking hot!
> 
> *Spoilers for S04:E18 in end notes*

“But when it comes to operations, make no mistake. From now on, _I’m_ calling the shots.”

Mace stood there frozen. He’d seen the normally self-effacing Coulson take charge and give orders before; plenty of times. Hell! When he’d been outed as a fake Inhuman thanks to being shot in the leg by the Watchdogs, Coulson had stepped in and taken control, running the op from that point on - Agent Mackenzie hadn’t even questioned the change. He was a natural leader, a damn good one, and people followed him. A little too blindly sometimes perhaps but it didn’t change the fact, more proved the point.

But _this_? This was something else entirely. This went straight to Mace’s cock. Made him want to drop to his knees (to hell with the bullet wound in his thigh) and obey whatever instructions Coulson saw fit to give. Coulson’s body language, his voice, the jut of his chin. This was him in full command mode; and Mace couldn’t help but want more of it.

“ _Mace_?”

The Director… Co-Director now? came to from his thoughts. The way Coulson was staring at him, he must have zoned out there for a few moments, imagining the other man doing things to him. Things that made him bend to his will and cry out with pleasure, perhaps even pain. But things he knew instinctively he would enjoy; if done by Coulson. He felt his cheeks flush and his cock harden.

“Sir?” He almost winced. Even to his ears he sounded breathless, needy. And his use of the honorific address, although accidental, had fallen from his lips quite naturally.

Coulson narrowed his eyes. His gaze was intense as he scrutinised Mace, skilfully reading every betrayal of the other man’s body; the darkening of his eyes, the light sheen of sweat on his upper lip, the way he stared at Coulson’s mouth. He knew what Mace was thinking. He knew what Mace wanted. He knew he could provide it, _would_ provide it. But the decision had to be Mace’s. He was clearly still vulnerable after recent events, his confession of what really happened in Austria and the offer to publicly step down as Director showed that, and Coulson wouldn’t take advantage of it.

“I asked if you were alright. Are you?” His tone was softer, more understanding. It didn't help. If anything, it made things worse.

However, finding the strength from somewhere, Mace cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Yes. Thank you. I… I should go.”

Coulson raised an eyebrow and gave him a slow smile. “Your office, Director, _I_ should go. Unless you… _need_ something from me?”

And there it was; an opening. But, god help him, too afraid to admit what he truly wanted he couldn’t take it. He swallowed thickly, the impulse to say yes and beg Coulson to fuck him conflicting with his fear of Coulson saying no… or worse still, yes.

“I… I’m fine, Phil. Thank you.” His heart hammered in his chest and he was sure Coulson could hear it. It was almost deafening him.

Coulson nodded, the intensity still burning in his eyes; the smile remaining on his lips. He opened the door brushing past Mace as he did so. Mace could feel the heat radiating from Coulson’s body and a tiny hitch in his breathing gave him away again.

Coulson leaned in close craning his neck a little for his breath ghost against Mace’s ear making him shiver. “If that changes, Jeff… come find me.”

***

 **01: 17hrs**. Mace lay in his bed, restless. And frustrated. His skin was burning up and despite the ache of his body from the crash, and the pain from bullet in his leg, he was hard, painfully so. His mind kept replaying Coulson’s words over and over in his head,

“ _But when it comes to operations, make no mistake. From now on, **I’m** calling the shots._ ”

As he heard them he recalled the flare of emotion on Coulson’s face. The way his brow furrowed, the creases above the bridge of his nose coming together in a brief frown when he hurled the words at him.

He groaned and pressed the heel of his hand against his rigid cock straining desperately against his boxer briefs. Fuck! It was leaking again soaking a damp patch into the material making the skin and fine hair low on his belly sticky with pre-come. He couldn’t take it any more. He needed… He needed… _Fuck_!

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and in SHIELD issue sweatpants and t-shirt, he found himself outside Coulson’s bunk. He hesitated, almost giving up and walking away before he took a deep, centring breath and lifted his hand to knock. Seconds later, Coulson opened the door to him, a soft half-smile curling up the corner of his mouth when he saw who it was. He stood aside to let Mace in and gently closed it behind him.

“What can I do for you, Director?” Coulson’s voice was warm but it also had an undercurrent of that earlier command tone sending a shiver through Mace.

Doing his best to keep it together, Mace tried for humour. “Jeff or Jeffrey. Or Mace. I don’t think Director really works when it’s just the two of us.” He paused before ducking his head and giving Coulson a quick flash of a grin. “Do you... _Director_?”

Coulson smirked. “Fair point, Jeff. Perhaps I’ll save Jeffrey for when I’m pissed at you.”

“You intend being pissed at me a lot?”

“I don’t know, Jeff. Do you intend making me?”

There was a glint in Coulson's eye as he said it and the half-smile became wider, turning into something more mischievous, causing creases to form at the corners of his eyes. It was incredibly sexy. Mace felt his pulse quicken and drew his bottom lip in between his teeth before looking away for a moment.

Not missing the gesture but not acting on it either, Coulson indicated to the lone chair in his room in front of the desk. Mace smiled his thanks and awkwardly dropped into it, leaning his crutch against the sturdy wooden desk.

Coulson moved over to his dresser retrieving a bottle of scotch and two glasses from the drawer. He put a couple of fingers of the amber liquid in one before handing it to Mace and doing the same with the second, keeping it for himself.

Mace rolled the glass between his palms watching the whisky swirl around the tumbler before taking a sip enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. It was good stuff. He dropped his head forward and began to speak. “I, uh… Earlier you asked if I was alright. If… I needed anything from you?”

Appearing calm and relaxed, Coulson leaned against the desk beside him and waited, casually taking his own sip of whisky. He was good at knowing when to push and when to hold back and right now he could sense how difficult this was for Mace. His own stomach was fluttering, his heart pounding in his chest at the closeness of him but he kept that hidden where Mace couldn’t see it; not yet.

“And… I told you I was fine…” Mace trailed off again and stared into his glass as though it held all the answers. Now Coulson knew it was time to push.

“You did,” he agreed mildly. “And I told you to come find me if that changed. You’re here. Does that mean it has?”

Still staring at the tumbler Mace shook his head. “It can't change if it wasn't true to begin with.”

“Another lie?” Coulson teased, immediately regretting it when Mace peered up at him with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, Jeff. Didn’t mean to sound flippant.”

Coulson reached out and closed his hand over Mace’s shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. He couldn’t help but find it arousing that his fingers were almost at full stretch to cover the expanse of solid muscle and bone. He may not have been Inhuman but he was every inch The Patriot.

Mace sighed and dropped his head forward again, exposing the back of his neck. Coulson hesitated for a moment then taking a chance, slid his hand round to the nape skimming the tips of his fingers over the skin pulling a low groan from Mace. Encouraged by his reaction, Coulson smiled and continued to stroke him, gently scraping his nails and fingertips up and down his neck until finally tangling his fingers into the short curls of Mace’s head. With another moan, Mace leaned into his touch, one hand coming up to rest on Coulson’s thigh as he laid his forehead beside it.

“Tell me what you need, Jeff,” Coulson said softly as he ran his fingers through his hair, scratching the scalp. “Tell me what you want.”

“This,” Mace murmured pressing his fingers into Coulson’s leg. “You.”

Phil clenched his jaw bunching the muscles into a tight knot, holding back his own moan. Deliberately or otherwise, where Mace was squeezing his thigh, was very definitely a turn on. He was glad he was wearing a pair of sweatpants over his boxer briefs. They weren’t hiding much but they were disguising more than his briefs alone would… probably.

“And if I said yes, what would you want from me?”

Mace halted kneading the muscles of Phil’s leg and tilted his head to the side resting his chin on the back of his hand. He knew exactly what he wanted and the way Coulson was stroking his head while allowing him to touch him like this, he figured Coulson might be interested too. Mace no longer found that to be a frightening prospect. Now it was an exciting one.

His voice was low but lacking the hesitancy of earlier when he answered, “I’d want you to fuck me. Right here over this desk.”

Coulson raised his eyebrow at the conviction in Mace’s tone, at his use of the profanity. He’d rarely heard Mace curse and at this moment it sent his blood rushing south to his cock.

Coulson twisted round setting his tumbler on the surface of the desk before turning back to scrape his hand along the rough stubble of Mace’s jaw. Leaning forward he placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, testing the waters.

Heart thumping in his chest, Mace gave him a slow, wide smile and uncurled from his position against Coulson’s leg to sit upright. He put down his own glass and angled his face to give Coulson better access.

With a half-smile, Coulson leaned in again. His lips were soft when they touched and the kiss was tender and undemanding; not what Mace was expecting at all but fuck it felt wonderful. Heat pooled in his belly and his cock twitched in his briefs at the feel of Coulson’s mouth against his, his tongue slowly licking along the seam of his lips before entering to explore the warm, wet heat inside. Mace’s breath hitched as their tongues brushed against each other, gently caressing.

Coulson kept the kiss unhurried as though he wanted to get to know Mace’s mouth intimately before he moved on to anything else. And perhaps he did. Now and again their mouths would widen deepening the kiss dragging moans and gasps from each other until Mace finally broke away breathing heavily.

“I’m so fucking turned on right now,” Coulson murmured against Mace’s ear.

He reached down and took Mace’s hand placing it on his cock closing his own hand over Mace’s to guide his palm along its length. He maintained the slow pace as he had the kiss, occasionally thrusting up into the Mace's fist.

“Jesus, Phil!” Mace whined pushing the heel of his other hand against his own cock to stop from coming there and then.

Coulson pressed his lips against the soft skin beneath Mace's ear. “Do you still want me to fuck you over my desk? Or would you like me to go down on you first?”

Ohh! That just wasn’t fair! Especially when Coulson was kissing and sucking at the pulse point near his throat.

“Phil, the second your mouth closed over my dick I’m pretty sure I’d come.”

“Would that be so bad?” he teased.

Mace considered the question seriously for a second. “Yeah… when I’ve been imaging coming on your cock, it would.”

“Fuck!”

Feeling the tell tale sign of his balls tightening, it was Coulson’s turn to drop a curse and hold off an orgasm. He pressed his hand down on top of Mace’s, squeezing his eyes shut, clenching his jaw as he concentrated to control the urge.

“Woah! That looked like a close one there, Phil. You okay?”

“Pot. Kettle.” He groaned, pausing for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. “By the way, how’s your leg?”

“Honestly? Not the only thing that’s throbbing right now.”

Coulson huffed out a laugh.

“It’s fine, Phil. Really.”

“Really? Because… I don’t want to have to call Simmons to restitch your wound half-way though fucking you over my desk… _if_ that's what you still want?”

Mace bit his lip at the image of himself bent over it with Coulson fucking him from behind. He squeezed his cock again. This was beginning to feel like some sort of weird competition of who could make the other come without actually touching them. And while that sounded like it could be interesting and fun it’s not how he wanted to climax with Phil. Not tonight. He wanted… _needed_  Coulson's touch.

“That would be… a little inconvenient,” he said eventually, drawing in a shaky breath.

“No. That would be a huge fucking nightmare.”

They looked at each other and snorted. Mace dropped his brow against Coulson’s chest trying to stop a fit of the giggles. Coulson leaned his chin against the back of Mace’s head, loosely wrapping his arms around him. A wide smile appeared on Coulson’s face when Mace reciprocated by sliding his hands round his waist to the base of his back, his thumb rubbing the skin below his t-shirt. He was delighted at the way Mace seemed to suddenly relax, any tension that remained from earlier just evaporating.

Eventually Mace sat back slightly, tilting his head to look up at Coulson, his eyes twinkling.

“Sorry,” he said with a grin.

“Why? I like hearing you laugh.”

“Thought maybe I’d ruined the mood.”

Coulson shook his head. “Take more than that.”

“Good.” And without warning, Mace leaned back in the chair and curled his fingers round the bottom of his t-shirt pulling it up and over his head, dropping it on the floor.

Coulson hummed with pleasure at the sight of his naked torso. Mace looked good. Really good. Broad chest and shoulders, muscular without being overly sculpted, a light covering of hair across his pecs. Yeah… _really_ good. Powerful. Coulson wanted to lose himself in that chest. He dragged his eyes away from Mace’s body to look him in the eye.

Mace reached out to touch Coulson’s forearm gliding his fingertips over the skin and hair much like Phil had done with his neck, gently exploring. “Don’t leave me hanging here, Phil. Join me?”

Phil hesitated. He knew what Mace was asking. He wanted him to take off his t-shirt but it wasn’t the first time, Loki’s ‘gift’ had held him back.

“I’ve seen the scar,” Mace told him softly as he continued to stroke Coulson’s arm. His light touch was soothing yet exciting. “Pictures of it at least. In your classified file.”

Coulson frowned. He didn’t realise Mace had access to that although he supposed it made sense; he was SHIELD’s Director after all. He wondered what else he had access to until he was pulled out of his thoughts by Mace carefully lifting his hand, bringing his knuckles to his mouth, gently kissing them.

“Join me. Please?” he breathed against the skin.

And suddenly it didn’t matter. The scar didn’t matter. What Mace knew didn’t matter. All that mattered was this. Now. Coulson smiled at Mace, gazing up at him his lips still pressed against Coulson’s knuckles. Carefully he removed his hand and grasped the bottom of his tee peeling it over his head and as Mace had done before him, let it fall to the floor.

For all Coulson was nine or ten years older, he was in great shape, better than he’d been for a while now that he was back in the field. Mace and he were similar in body; broad and hairy across the chest with strong arms and shoulders. With his six foot frame, Mace was just… bigger. And maybe a _little_ trimmer here and there.

Mace reached out his hand to touch, not the long, twisted scar on Coulson's chest but other, older ones. A puckered bullet wound below his ribs on the left; a few straight lines and jagged tears here and there presumably from knife or bottle fights; other bullet wounds to his right shoulder and right arm. Plus knobbly ridges along bones when they hadn’t always healed properly.

“So many,” he whispered, very much aware that his own body absent of any blemishes.

“You have your own now,” Phil told him with a wry grin, dragging Mace’s eyes away from their scrutiny of him. “On your thigh,” he clarified tapping Mace’s leg at his bemused expression. Mace grinned back and nodded.

“Still have aways to catch up though. And you’ve got more hair on your chest than me. It’s kinda sexy. Especially this,” Mace told him stroking his forefinger through the trail of fine hair leading down to paradise which Mace suspected was hiding inside Coulson’s sweatpants.

Coulson rolled his eyes.

“You’ve got more hair on your head than me. Also kinda sexy.” He ran his fingers through it and grabbed a handful tugging Mace’s head back exposing his throat. Coulson bent forward mouthing the pulse point again, nipping at his jaw before capturing Mace’s lips with his own. And with that they were back on track.

Mace let go of a long, deep moan of pleasure loving the feel of Coulson’s mouth on his skin, his fingers tightly wound through his hair pulling it, not painfully but not gently either. The sound was abruptly cut off by Coulson’s tongue licking its way into his mouth probing and exploring. Fuck! What that man could do with his tongue. He whimpered when Coulson finally stopped.

“Bed or desk. Your choice,” Phil whispered against his lips before mouthing along the scruff of his jawline to the soft patch of skin below his ear, where he nuzzled his nose against it, kissing it gently making Mace squirm in his chair.

For all his talk about being fucked over Coulson’s desk, and he had no doubt it would be pretty incredible having Coulson draped over his back like a blanket while he was fucked senseless, desk sex had connotations of frantic coupling incase someone should walk in mid-thrust (yeah he’d done it before). Fun and exciting yes but up until now things had been relaxed and unhurried between Coulson and him and he realised that’s what he really wanted; this quiet intimacy between them.

Confidently Mace replied, “Bed.”

“Mmm. Good choice,” Phil murmured. “Would you like me to help you get ready?”

Suddenly embarrassed, Mace ducked his head. Coulson frowned. Shit! What had he said?

“Jeff, we don’t have to...”

He shook his head and looked up at Coulson through his eyelashes. “It’s not that. I… uh, prepped myself before I came here. I figured if you were interested it would save time; if not, well no harm no foul.”

Coulson grinned at him delighted by his explanation. “Forward planning. We’ll make an ops man out of you yet.”

He pushed himself off the edge of the desk and held his hand out to Mace helping him get to his feet, each with a hand gripping the other’s forearm.

Mace seemed to tower over Coulson and yet it was he, Mace, who was intimidated. Phil Coulson had probably never been intimidated a day in his entire life. Oh! Except maybe when he met Captain America. He'd heard about that, actually seen some of the footage when PR had briefly considered using it as publicity material. However Coulson’s death had put paid to the idea ever coming to fruition, although personally he believed Nick Fury would have blocked it anyway. An image of Coulson and Rogers together flashed across his mind and the thought made him smile. And think dirty thoughts. He was pulled out of his reverie by a warm hand on his chest.

“You zoned out there for a few seconds,” Coulson said to him, that crooked half-smile of his playing on his lips.

Mace felt a blush spread across his cheeks. He ducked his head and tilted it to the side, giving Coulson a guilty smile in return.

“I… uh. Sorry.”

“Don't be. Looked like you were enjoying it.”

“Maybe a little,” he agreed. His smile slowly transformed into a mischievous grin showing his dimples and making his eyes sparkle.

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Coulson teased, enjoying the look on him… which rapidly turned horrified at Coulson’s request.

“Oh _god_ no!”

“Ah… _those_ kinds of thoughts. Maybe I can put that to good use.” Coulson reached up and gently cupped the back of Mace’s head with his left hand pulling him down for another kiss which Mace happily allowed. He moaned into Coulson’s mouth when Coulson’s other hand leisurely slid down his hard cock carefully squeezing his balls before returning to his shaft where it resumed its steady stroking.

“Fuuuck!” he breathed against Coulson’s lips.

“Okay?”

“Oh god yes! So okay. So… _fuuuck_!”

“Maybe we should…

“Yeah! Definitely.”

“Why don’t you take off your clothes for me and get comfortable.”

Mace shivered at the thought of Coulson’s hands finally on him, all of him, and limped over to the bed to do as he requested.

Coulson in the meantime calmly gathered some supplies from his night stand.

Turning round, he caught sight of Mace lying on his back on top of the sheets, one hand behind his head, the other resting awkwardly beside him. Coulson smiled, delighted that he’d done as instructed without question. He knew Mace was anxious and he figured taking charge would most likely help him relax.

He reached down to trail his fingertips through Mace’s chest hair, scraping his nails over one of his nipples making it harden into a tight little nub. Mace closed his eyes and gasped, arching his back and pushing his head into the mattress at the sensation. His smile widening, Coulson continued tracing a path down Mace’s stomach watching the muscles jump under his touch, noting the way Mace’s dick, full and dripping, twitched leaving trails of precome against the soft hairs of his belly. Fucking gorgeous.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he said soothingly, skimming his fingers over Mace’s hipbone and down his uninjured thigh. “I promise I won’t hurt you. Anything makes you uncomfortable or your leg gets painful, we wait. You say stop, we stop. Okay?”

Feeling reassured, Mace nodded and relaxed a little more on the bed - or at least as much as he could with the way Coulson was touching him. It had been a while since he’d had sex with another man and truth be told, as much as he wanted this, Coulson was right; he was nervous.

Withdrawing his fingers from Mace’s skin, Coulson removed his own sweatpants and briefs smiling as Mace licked his lips when his cock was revealed. He reached down and stroked his shaft a couple of times drawing a bead of pre-come from his slit.

“Now that’s just fucking hot,” Mace rasped as he watched.

With a smirk, Coulson let go of his dick and climbed onto the bed positioning himself between Mace’s legs. His voice was low and gravelly when he spoke.

“I know you said you’d probably come if I sucked you but… will you let me have a taste?”

Heart thumping, Mace nodded his agreement. Fuck! This was really happening. Phil Coulson, handler of Strike Team Delta, wrangler of The Avengers, the man Fury brought back from the dead, was interested in _him_. Was going down on _him_.

Coulson bent low, chest pressed against his knees, carefully spreading Mace’s legs a little farther apart to place gentle kisses on his inner thighs. He bent lower still and circled his tongue around the pucker of Mace’s hole, then trailed it along his seam, over his smooth, hairless balls and up his cock before closing his mouth over the tip.

Mace cried out and jerked as soon as Coulson’s tongue was on him and by the time he was in Coulson’s mouth, he was a quivering wreck.

“Jesus, Phil! Oh fuck!”

One of Mace’s hands grabbed at the sheet, the heel of his other hand pressing against his forehead as he arched into it. Coulson bobbed his head over Mace’s shaft a couple of times before pulling his mouth off with a wet pop. Apparently Mace hadn’t been kidding. He was close to toppling over the edge.

Coulson sat back on his heels reaching for the condom giving Mace a chance to get himself under control. Mace’s brows pulled together with concentration as he willed away the orgasm.

Coulson tore the wrapper open with his teeth and slid the condom over his shaft making sure it was secure before lifting the bottle of lube. Snapping open the lid, he poured a generous amount into his palm.

“Are you with me, Jeff?” he asked softly, coated his cock.

“Yeah,” Mace whispered after a moment as his breathing finally began to slow. “That fucking mouth of yours!”

“Should I apologise?” Coulson smirked, stroking his fingers of one hand across Mace’s thigh both of which were draped over his own.

“No! Fuck no! It was… hell, it was perfect. Another few seconds and I’ve lost it.”

“You had enough?” Coulson teased.

Mace glared back at him. “Less talking, more fucking.”

“Ohhh. So that’s how it is,” Coulson said, circling a slicked up finger around the rim of Mace’s hole before pushing carefully inside. There was no resistance at all.

“Fuck, Jeff! You really did prep.”

Mace groaned, thrusting his hips up as Coulson’s finger brushed against his prostate.

“Give me your cock, Phli. Please,” Mace bit out, writhing beneath him, digging his heels into Coulson’s legs.

“Christ!” Coulson growled. He eased his finger out replacing it with the head of his cock slowly rubbing the tip against Mace’s hole pushing carefully against the pucker. But there was a big difference between Coulson’s finger and his thick cock.

“Just relax, Jeff. Let me inside. There… that’s it. Oh fuck! That’s it,” Coulson breathed as he breached Mace’s hole, gradually pushing inside inch by incredible inch. “You okay?”

“Yes… _Fuck_ , yes!” Mace gasped in return.

And that was the last coherent thought Mace had as Coulson pulled out until just his tip remained then pushed back into him with long, slow thrusts. Every roll of his hips was calculated to cause the most pleasure for both of them made evident by the breathy sounds of lust punctuated every now and again with a loud grunt or moan. Each nudge against Mace’s prostate had him crying out, pressing the back of his head into the mattress.

Coulson leaned forward, one hand curled around Mace’s shoulder, the other down by Mace’s hip bracing himself against the mattress giving him more leverage to fuck into him. Mace raised his legs higher, his hands grabbing onto Coulson’s thighs pulling him deeper inside with each thrust. They were fucking hard now, a light sheen of sweat covering their bodies, their hair getting damp at the edges with it.

Coulson pressed in against Mace, tucking Mace’s knees under his elbows to bracket his face with his hands pulling him close to kiss him as he rocked against him.

 

“Close. So close,” Mace panted against his lips. He let go of one of Coulson’s legs to grab hold of his cock instead, viciously pulling an orgasm from it in just a few strokes calling out as the thick ropes of come spattered against his stomach and chest. Phil could feel his balls tighten as his own climax neared. His rhythm faltered and he groaned between his teeth as he came, his body shaking with the intensity of it. 

***

In the afterglow, cleaned up with their arms and legs wrapped around each other, Coulson stroked his fingers up and down Mace’s back. The other man sighed happily completely blissed out. A short time ago his world had been flipped around when he’d gone from superhuman hero to regular human nobody. If he was no longer The Patriot perhaps he wouldn’t have a place at SHIELD at all, no matter what Coulson said. But for now, he was content to be held in Coulson’s arms. Whatever happened in the morning, Coulson had taken care of him tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to a very tiny ship, more a rowing boat, but I hope you enjoy it. 'Calling the Shots' is especially for Skyson and Inspieos who wrote the first stories, and also for those who read and enjoyed them. 
> 
> *Spoilers*  
> After S4:E18 'No Regrets' this is either really good timing or really bad. I hope it's the former. 
> 
> "We have so little say over who lives or dies. We can try to shield them...fight fire with fire...keep them at a safe distance...and pray they are somehow impervious to injury...but for those who defend our freedoms by constantly putting themselves in harm's way...harm will find them...sooner or later." - Jeffrey Mace (Earth-616)
> 
> "I think I figured out my place on the team. I'm the blocker." - Jeffrey Mace (Marvel's Agent's of S.H.I.E.L.D.)
> 
> Mace... gonna miss you, fella.


End file.
